Page 165 of The Wrong Brother

She jogs back over, crouches dramatically in front of me, and hovers both hands over my stomach.

“Bye, cuz!”

I burst out laughing.

“You are such a dork.”

“I know.” She grins at my belly one last time, and with that, she springs back to her feet and hurries outside, where a car idles in the driveway.

I watch from the kitchen window as she climbs into the passenger seat, still smiling despite the nerves. Shannon reaches across the center console to squeeze her daughter’s hand before pulling away from the curb.

* * *

It’s only a few hours later that I find myself distracted, alone in an empty house, with manila folders spread out before me.

This little office that Rus gave me is smaller than the one he originally offered, but it is already a mess. When he asked if Iwanted to “help out” with the business, I’d laughed in his face. But then he brought me to a meeting, without telling me where we were going, and I got to see it all.

The careful planning.

The financial layout, which included fair payouts to the women.

The control they had over their lives. Everything from housing to which doctor they wanted to see for their biweekly checkups.

It was hard to say no when I got to see how empowered the handful of women representing the escort service clearly felt—how they voiced their opinions to a BratvaPakhanwithout even flinching.

Which is how I ended up profiling potential new employees. Each folder holds a dossier, a photo, and a story that breaks my heart every single time I read it. Rus has gone out of his way to make sure the women involved in this business are given a second chance, a clean record, and no judgement.

A light knock on the doorframe makes me jump.

When I turn, he’s standing there in a beige suit that shouldn’t look so handsome on anyone. But it makes his pale silver-blonde hair look striking, his eyes even more so, and the glasses perched on the tip of his nose tie my stomach in knots.

“Hi,” I say, watching him squint.

“Hi.” He steps into the room, unbuttoning the suit jacket and casually putting one hand in a pocket. “What are you up to? You sound a little suspicious.”

I can’t help the coy smile that slips onto my lips.

“Nothing. Just got a little distracted.”

My eyes drag down that suit. My fingertips itch with the desire to trace every hard ridge and plane of the muscles I know lie beneath.

“Mmm,” Ruslan hums, stalking closer, like a predator toward his prey. It sends a delighted shiver through my body. “Those first trimester hormones, is it,l’vyonak?”

I feel my cheeks heat up as my breathing picks up.

This wasnota symptom that I’ve ever been warned about. I don’t know what it is, but ever since Colorado I can barely keep my hands off Ruslan.

Luckily, he doesn’t want me to.

Coming ever closer, he reaches out and tugs at the tie to the high-waisted skirt I have on. I’m not anywhere near showing, but thoughts of pregnancy and having a child are adding a new aspect toLord&Lion—a maternity line.

“Come here,” Ruslan murmurs, turning me in his arms as I chuckle, unable to keep from grazing my ass against his crotch. “Can’t have my partner in crime getting distracted.”

My head falls back with another laugh, his lips planting hungrily at the junction where my shoulder and neck meet. The laugh quickly turns into a moan, heat pooling low and fast in my pelvis.

I can’t help it. All day I’ve been thinking of him, ofthis,hoping to get him alone. With Kate out of the house for two nights, it’s the perfect opportunity.

“Shouldn’t you shut the door?” I ask, attempting to turn around and kiss him properly. But Ruslan moves me roughly forward, a careful arm around my waist, until my thighs hit the desk.